


Wet

by AlecticWild



Series: Out of Time, Out of Place [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 09:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlecticWild/pseuds/AlecticWild
Summary: Dear Lilith, the boy looked like a ghoul.





	Wet

Magnus twirled his fingers in a semi-circle above the fireplace, watching with satisfaction as flames rippled across the kindling sitting there, before settling into a strong warm glow that lit up the lounge room. He turned around to look at the dripping mess that was his boyfriend, his lip curling as his delicate and priceless 17th-century Persian rug got an impromptu shower.

So much for the chill-bitten rosy cheeks and bright saturated eyes in romance novels.  Dear Lilith, the boy looked like a ghoul.

“My dear, you are definitely not an individual who looks good cold”.

Alec grunted, scowl heavily in place as he toed off his boots and kicked them behind the couch. “I hardly think hypothermia is an endearing aesthetic on _anyone_ Magnus”. He sneezed. “No offense to -”, he waved his hand around, gesturing between them “-whatever fantasies you had headed in that direction”.

The warlock quirked an eyebrow and watched with a certain amount of glee as Alec sneezed again. By the look on his face, the Shadowhunter seemed to be personally affronted by this pesky biological need he was succumbing to. He snapped his fingers. “Tissue?”

Alec swatted away the box of tissues that had materialised in front of his face. “I’m fine”.

_Snap._

“Tea?”

“Magnus I’m-“

 _Snap_. “Hot water bottle?”

“ _Magnus-”_

_Snap._

Alec looked down at himself and then looked up at him blankly. “How exactly is removing my shirt helping the whole cold situation?”

Magnus lowered himself into his favorite armchair with a sad look on his face. “Alas, it does not. _Unfortunately_. Honestly, I sometimes like to believe that most of the problems in this mortal world could be solved by just removing your shirt Alec”. He stretched over and grabbed his dark red knit blanket off the back of the couch, cocooning it around himself as he gazed appreciatively at the exquisite chest in front of him. “What a world that would be”.

Alec was thoroughly unimpressed. Magnus could tell by the way his expression did that thing where it didn’t do anything at all. The man really could pull off an inspired ‘deadpan’ when he was in the mood.

“You know you’re particularly exasperating tonight”.

“And you’re particularly wet”. Magnus smirked. “What a pair we make”.

Magnus watched as the other man rolled his eyes and gave up on him, instead deciding to shuffle closer to the warmth radiating from the fireplace. A part of his brain perked up a bit as he watched Alec unzip his black jeans and strip them off.

(Although perhaps that description would be rather generous given that there was a lot more hopping around on one foot, expletives and wrestling with uncooperative, stubborn wet fabric than a proper strip-tease would call for.

But hey, he’d take what he could and simply appreciate the uncoordinated clothing struggle of his Shadowhunter as an endearing attempt at unintentional seductiveness - regardless of how far that actually was from the truth.)

Alec plonked himself face-first down on the floor next to the fire, crossing his arms under this head.  

“It’s your own fault”, Magnus said.

Alec huffed. “I didn’t ask to be on that fucking boat.”  

Magnus picked his feet up and placed them on Alec’s back, regretting it almost immediately because the skin there was somehow still freezing cold. Did this man have absolutely no circulation at all?  

“Just as I definitely didn’t ask to be dragged from the warm and comfy confines of my bed, into the worst weather to hit New York since God knows when, in order to pull all of your asses off from said boat and the entire Atlantic ocean at large”, he shot back. 

“2012”.

Magnus looked down at the mop of black hair that was still glistening with water, confused at the apparent non-sequitur. “What?”

“Hurricane Sandy hit in 2012. It was a mess.” Alec turned his head marginally, looking up at him curiously with one eye. “You weren’t here?”

Magnus tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling, tapping a finger against his chin. “In 2012? Hm. I’m not sure.” He forced his mind back into his past, which tonight was honestly a struggle given how tired he was. He frowned. Where was he in 2012?

Alec continued. “I mean, you can’t have been. You would definitely remember if you were. It wasn’t exactly something you could sleep through.”

A memory tickled at his synapses. And then-

Ah.

 “Australia”.

Alec shifted so he was looking at him more fully. “Huh?”

Magnus nodded to himself, settling further into the plush cushioning of the chair. “Yes. I was in Australia for a few years. Dealing with some pesky Cassowary’s. Tenacious things. Not very willing to give up a few feathers no matter how much Strawberry Jam I had on my person. ” He frowned, remembering. “My entire supply of Strawberry Jam in fact. Just gone, like that”. He waggled his fingers in the air, a flicker of gold sparking off from them. “Poof”.  

Alec dropped his face back into his arms and muttered something into the floor.

“What was that?”

Alec rolled over onto his back, shifting Magnus’s feet to his stomach in the process and looked at him fondly. Or, Magnus hoped that was fond and not just the expression someone had when they were dredging up a certain level of acquired patience.

He was gonna go with fond.  

“ _I said_ you’re doing that thing again where you say a lot of words that you think make perfect sense together, but actually sound completely insane to everyone else that isn’t _you_ ”.

Ah.

Not fond perhaps.

Maybe….tolerant?

Magnus expelled a heavy, put-upon sigh. “I can hardly be held accountable for any lack of cognitive ability you, or others, may have darling. You Shadowhunters already blame me for anything from The Great Depression, to the socks and sandals fiasco which somehow still persists. Where exactly does the line stop Alexander? From whence shall thy reap liberation of such victim-hood?”

He finished his adlib soliloquy, one fist cupped to his heart, the other arm extended upwards in homage to all the best Shakespearean plays. 

“You’re ridiculous”.

He looked down at the man he’d just dragged up from the depths of the sea like one would dredge up wilted tea leaves from the bottom of a cold cup of tea, and winked.

 “Ridiculously handsome”.

 


End file.
